Jonathon casually slid off his earbuds, listening intently to…
Singing. The singing called to him, like some muted, wonderful mermaid.
With a carefulness he peeked through the doors, to see a familiar tuft of disheveled, brown hair.
His heart broke or soared: Timothy.
For some time now Jonathon felt thick stirrings within for the boy. He realized it one English class afternoon; this clarity of feeling dawned on him upon seeing Timothy, brow furrowed, in earnest concentration over whatever he was writing. He blushed, smiled, and he knew.
Timothy…had this aching beauty about him.
Jonathon had known that he was attracted to boys physically…but Timothy was the first boy he'd ever actually had a crush on. He had started going out with Becky before these feelings for Timothy…
And somehow, he just felt a strain to keep up with appearances. Becky was a nice, pretty girl. She didn't deserve heartbreak…
But oh, if he could have Timothy…(that singing, that melodic voice drifted over his thoughts)
Jonathon shook his head. Pain soared within him, but so be it.
He didn't have the courage Timothy had. To be…himself.
"Hey…" He caught Timothy after the auditions. "Great pipes," he managed to get out casually. Ah, the wonderful quality of having the Nice Guy label: you could talk with anybody, without giving any…additional feelings away.
Timothy smiled (a lovely, lovely grin!) "Err—thanks."
They made eye contact, smiling at each other.
For a moment, neither breathed. Flushed faces staring back at each other, waiting…
The hall had cleared out. Jonathon suddenly cleared his throat, a twitch in his fingers
A breath in, and